


I Hate Being Asian

by sparkleseungs



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Asian Character(s), Child Abuse, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Stereotypes, minsung - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleseungs/pseuds/sparkleseungs
Summary: Minho hates being Asian. A 5 year old Han Jisung with too much energy and a sunshine smile changed that. Momentarily.





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! this is my first ever stray kids au that I've written and posted! i hope yall enjoy this and give me some kudos hehe. do feel free to follow my stan twt account @giggleseungs! ill tweet whenever i post any updates on ao3 and my shorter aus that dont need to be posted on ao3 will all be there as well! 
> 
> enjoy!!!! :)

0.1

Minho hated being Asian. 

He knew he was different. Every single kid around had big doe eyes with double eyelids, while he had small slit-like eyes with monolids. They had pale skin that burned red in the sun, while he had darker skin that hardly tanned. 

He asked his parents before, and they sat him down and explained it to him step by step. He was from Asia, more specifically Korea. Minho’s parents had moved here before Minho was born. Minho was American. He had an American passport and everything. But why did he feel so ostracised? 

Minho didn’t understand. Why wasn’t he brought up Korean then? Why was his favourite food Mac and cheese and not Bibimbap? Why was his first language English instead of Korean? 

Why wasn’t he just born in Korea? It would have saved him from all that self-doubt. 

His parents were fluent in both, they tried teaching him before but Minho feared the difference and refused. They stopped trying past the 5-year mark. 

Minho tried. He really did, to not be Asian. 

The first time he wanted to be Asian was when he met Han Jisung. 

It all started when a moving truck pulled into his neighbour’s driveway on a fateful Tuesday afternoon. 

7-year-old Lee Minho was playing with his favourite toy train when it pulled in noisily. His previous neighbours had moved out not even a month ago, so he was shocked to say the least that someone had bought the house already. 

The curiosity got the better of him, so Minho wandered into their driveway, past the fence, ignoring his parent's words at the back of his head to never do that.

Out of the moving truck stepped out a couple, distinctly Asian couple. They looked like the average couple. But the person that caught Minho’s attention wasn’t the couple. It was the boy with them. 

The only boy in the neighbourhood with the same eyes as him. Minho knew he was different from the other boys around, and it was the first time he had seen someone like him. 

He looked around the same age as Minho, probably slightly younger than Minho. Or maybe he was just small. Who knew?

The boy had jumped out with a bounce moments after his parents, Minho assumed, carrying a bright blue backpack almost the same size as him. 

Minho wondered, how in the world he didn’t topple over. A giggle washed over Minho without him even realizing. 

The boy was clasping his parent’s hands with his own tiny ones. And he had the biggest sunshine grin plastered on his face. All Minho knew was that the only thing he wanted was to be his friend. 

A faint voice appeared from behind his head as he observed the family. 

“Minho! What did i tell you about going into people’s houses?” Came his mother’s voice that was increasingly getting louder. It wasn’t long before her hand clasped on Minho’s shoulder to prevent him from going any further.

And then came the pout.

“But mom!” Minho’s high pitched voice whined and pointed eagerly at the family who were currently busy moving their boxes from the truck into their house. Minho bounced up and down in his ratty old sneakers. 

“I wanna talk to him! I haven’t had a friend in ages! And he looks like me! Ya! Please, mom!” Minho was beginning to tug on his mother’s hand. 

“Ah, i haven’t seen a Korean family here before, that’s interesting…” A soft smile overtook the stern look she previously had on. 

“Please mum!” Minho was close to breaking free from his mum’s grasp.

“Alright honey, go on.” Was all she had to say before Minho sprinted off to go talk to the new boy, train in hand.

“Hi! I’m Minho! ” Was what he settled with when he was within earshot of the boy. 

He was sitting on the grass in front of the house, his giant backpack next to him and panting, obviously tired from all the moving. 

The boy was shy, unsure of Minho’s intentions and gave him a shifty look before replying. “Hi.”

He was quiet, that was for sure, but Minho remained unfazed. He hoped that the boy next door wouldn’t mind being friends with the messy and boisterous neighbour with one too many mud stains on his pants. 

“ I live next door. I’m 7. What’s your name?”

He didn’t reply initially. All he did was show up 5 fingers. He was 5. Perhaps he was afraid of him.

Minho tried something new. It usually earned the confusion and slight disgust from the other white kids in the neighbourhood, but he had the feeling Jisung would appreciate his ethnicity. 

“I’m,” Minho paused to let the strange word leave his mouth in a positive way for the first time in his life. “Korean.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. Blasting off with choruses of Korean, he rattled on and on and on. He only stopped after a minute or so when he noticed Minho’s puzzled look. 

Minho racked his brain for the Korean phrases his parents had tried to teach him years ago, but they were buried under everything else that was deemed unimportant. 

At least the boy was excited to meet him.

“English? What’s your name?” Minho’s palms were turning sweaty as the interaction went on. 

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but paused before whispering his reply in attempted confidence, so softly that Minho almost didn’t catch it.

“P-Peter.”

“That’s not your name.” Minho blatantly stated.

“What?”

“That’s not your name. You’re lying aren’t you?”

A sigh escaped the boy's lips.

“Yea. Eomma told me to use Peter. Not my name. Sorry”

He looked down to his fingers like he was ashamed. 

“Han Jisung.” 

Minho didn’t catch it at the start.

“What?”

The boy cleared his throat and took a deep breath in.

“My name. Han Jisung.”

The name was foreign to Minho, but it excited him all the same. His first friend.

“Hi, Jisung!” Minho let the name roll off his tongue for the first time and loved the way it did so. He could say Jisung’s name again and again and again. He didn’t know why his parents asked him to use Peter. Jisung was a beautiful name. 

“Wanna be my friend?”

“English…” Jisung paused. “Not good.” 

“That’s okay! I’ll teach you English!” Minho let out a goofy smile. 

“And maybe you can teach me Korean?”

Jisung paused for a brief moment as if he were in deep thought before letting a small smile creep onto his face. He then nodded 

“Okay. Thank you Minho Hyung.”

The first Korean word Minho learnt how to write was Jisung’s full Korean name. The first English word Jisung learnt to write was Minho’s full English name.

Han Jisung and Lee Minho.

It was shaky and messy penmanship on a whole, but it was them.

Maybe being Asian wasn’t so bad after all.


	2. 0.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so glad to read all the positive comments yall left behind hehe! i only had the first chap up for about a day or so and so many people have seen it !!!!:) anyway, if youre vegan or vegetarian, i apologize lmAO! enjoy chapter 2!

The second Korean word Minho learnt how to write was his own Korean name, with the help of his parents of course. 

They were shocked, to say the least when Minho asked them how to write his own Korean name.

He spent the entire night practising and practising it over and over again to show Jisung the next day. His hand ached the next day but it was worth it. He had literally just met the boy and he wanted to impress him with his non-existent korean skills. 

Whipped. 

Jisung was thrilled that Minho learnt how to write something other than Han Jisung, no matter how beautiful sounding his name was.

On their first day of elementary school, Jisung came over for breakfast before and Minho’s parents sent them over together. His favourite breakfast food was pancakes with lots of maple syrup. 

Jisung bounded over with energy in each step toward the house next door and when Minho’s mum opened the door, she couldn’t say no.

His energy and excitement soon drained when Minho’s parents pulled up along the driveway of the school.

The sight of the school with cookie cutter students streaming in was just frightening for Jisung. Minho too. 

Tugging on Minho’s sleeved with his too long sleeved shirt, Jisung mumbled, his voice slightl muffled by the fabric of Minho’s shirt. 

“Hyung... I’m scared…” Tears began to well up in his eyes as he hid his face behind Minho’s slightly larger figure.

Minho turned, and took Jisung’s trembling hand into his endearingly. 

“Hey hey… It’ll be okay, you have me. I won’t leave you alone. We stick together, okay? 

Jisung sniffed and swiped his tears away with his sleeve. His slightly swollen red eyes were beginning to look slightly normal again. 

“Okay.”

At first, Jisung was slightly intimidated by the larger sized children and their fluent english, and rightfully so. Kids were mean. Everybody knew them as the two asian kids in class and not in a good way. They made fun of his broken english and lisp. 

Minho thought his lisp was cute. 

Thankfully, Jisung seemed to embrace the idea with open arms and a bright smile with crooked teeth. He probably didn’t understand what they were saying. 

Minho hated being asian. 

The two were playing in Jisung’s room two weeks after their first day of school.

Jisung had opened up more from the first time they met and began to smile more and hide less behind his thick fringe. 

“Korea,” Jisung proclaimed out of the blue as he laid on his bed and looked up at the unfortunately familiar ceiling of his. 

“What about Korea?” 

He then began to spout strings of angry korean words, leaving Minho baffled. It was too fast for Minho to translate. 

“What did you just say?”

Jisung tried to translate but with his limited english ability, it ended up in broken phrases that only succeeded in frustrating him further. Hot tears began to stream down his cheeks, but Jisung rubbed them away as soon as they appeared. 

His back soon faced Minho. Sniffles could be heard too. 

Minho’s heart ached for Jisung, but he had no idea what to do. He had never packed his bags and moved thousands of miles away to a foreign country and not speaking the language. He could barely speak one language let alone learn a completely different. He couldn’t feel for him. 

Minho plopped onto Jisung’s spiderman bed sheets a couple inches away from him. 

“You miss Korea?” 

Jisung nodded back and looked down to his feet again, a habit Minho noticed he had since meeting him two weeks ago.

Taking in a deep breath, Minho asked the question that had been at the bck of his mind for the past week.

“Tell me about Korea! I wanna know.” Minho poked Jisung in the side.

A fire lit up behind Jisung’s chestnut brown eyes and he jumped up from his once lethargic position to sit up straight. The tears instantly disappeared. 

“Really?”

Minho sat up and looked him as dead in the eye as 7 year old could suffice. 

“Definitely.”

By the end of the day, Minho felt as if he knew every single one of Jisung’s friends all the way back in Korea. At least as far as Jisung’s broken english could explain. 

Jisung grew up in a completely different environment than Minho, but they grew up watching Spongebob. In different languages, but it bonded the two. 

A lot happened in 5 hours behind closed doors, from pillow fights to colouring and everything in between. Or at least the most they could do with Jisung’s parents’ permission that is.

But Minho loved Jisung’s parents. He had only met them half a day ago, but they supplied him and Jisung with some unique korean snacks Jisung seemed to love. 

His tongue had never tasted such salty tangy flavours before. 

“Wow…” Jisung muttered under his breath as he watched Minho colour between the lines expertly and even began to use his fingers to blend the different colours together in a swirl of mystique that Jisung couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“Hm?”

“You colour good.” Jisung was in awe. 

“Thanks.” A smile came onto Minho before he could stop himself. 

And for once, the idea of being Asian to Minho was bearable.


	3. Cassette Tapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is shorter so i decided to update earlier! hope you guys enjoy what ive put up so far and give me some kudos and comments hehe

0.3

Since that day, the two had been attached by the hip. Where Lee Minho would be, Han Jisung would right next to him and vice versa. They never branched out to get any more friends to expand their duo, but the two were perfectly fine with it just being the two of them.

You know what they say, two’s a party, three’s a crowd. 

There was nobody else that Minho clicked so well with like Jisung. They were each other’s missing pieces in their own personal jigsaw puzzles they didn’t even know they had. 

Minho grew accustomed to Jisung’s antics and behaviour, like whenever he grinned, his crooked front teeth would show and his giggle sounded like a squirrel's. Or whenever he was particularly exhausted, he would snore in his sleep.

Or even when he was really excited about something he would jump up and down on his little spot. His fluffy hair would fly up and down as he laughed. Minho always thought his laugh was infectious. 

“Hyung! Come see this!” 9-year-old Jisung called out.

Minho quickly skated as fast as he could over to him, clanging his feet rhythmically against the concrete flooring with his worn out sneakers. 

The June sun was scorching hard on them, causing Adrain to sweat profusely, but the too were still outside skating up and down the street. The wind’s kisses was just too refreshing to ignore. 

“What?” He panted heavily and looked over Jisung’s shoulder. 

4 years had gone by and Jisung was still much shorter than Minho. Minho wondered if he was ever going to grow, much less overtake him. 

“Look!”

Jisung tried to continue his sentence, but stumbled clumsily on his words and eventually gave up. Saying a korean word angrily, he simply pointed to the object before slumping on the dusty ground.

A cassette tape along with a recorder was left at the bottom of a shady tree. 

Minho eagerly picked it up and held it in his tiny hands. 

“It’s a Cassette tape Jisung-ah.”

“Cassette tape.” Jisung repeated and nodded his head several times, compartmentalizing the new piece of information, as did Minho. 

Years had flown by and Jisung’s english vocab bank had expanded steadily, becoming more fluent and less awkward. Minho understood some korean too. Jisung had tried to give him proper lessons, but he wasn’t as good at Jisung in picking up new languages. 

Understanding minimal Korean would just have to do for Minho. For now. 

Minho and Jisung spent the rest of the night listening to that cassette tape which held their new favourite song. Sharing the earplugs Jisung had swiped from his mum’s dresser, they listened to it over and over again in the comfort of Minho’s warm sheets. 

Soft giggles muffled by the blankets echoed all over Minho’s room as the boys’ legs tangled like vines with one another’s for warmth. Jisung’s warm breath would fan over Minho’s cheeks, (it always smelt like Jisung’s favourite caramel korean candy). 

“Sshh!!” The two would whisper-scream at each other whilst poking the other’s side. 

The bed was a single sized one, but due to their small size, it was just right for them. Things couldn’t be better. 

They soon fell asleep with Minho’s head on Jisung’s, soft snores escaping both their lips.

Minho liked the idea of being Asian.


	4. Things Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot of angst and crying so be prepared! (get some tissues etc.) Enjoy heh. This is also a very long one so i wont be updating for a couple of days or so,, take your time to relax breathe and cry with Minho and Jisung :))

Things were soft and fluffy for a period of time. Middle school soon rolled around. Cliques were forming slowly and the kids in school were gradually becoming, teenagers. Minho grew taller, and he wished the same could be said about Jisung.

But it was cute, the way he never got past his cheekbone and had to tiptoe to force Minho to look him in the eye. 

Jisung was growing up though, Minho was forced to admit it. He got braces in the summer of 6th grade and switched his long-sleeved shirts for checkered flannels. 

It was the summer of 8th grade when things started to sour, like a fruit turning bad. 

Minho never realized the reason why Jisung was always around. Why he always stuck around his house and pushed his curfew to the last millisecond. Why whenever Minho suggested they hang out at his house instead, Jisung always said no. 

He always assumed it was because Jisung loved him, (as a friend of course). Or maybe because his mum made possibly the best pasta in the world. But the underlying reason was because he never wanted to be at home. 

It was pitch black outside. The lamps outside Minho’s house were switched off a long time ago. The silence was deafening that he swore he could hear his own heart beating. 

The noise that broke that silence was the sound of Minho’s window sliding open and a clumsy burglar-like figure fumbled in. 

Minho scrambled to reach for his baseball bat that had sitting under his bed collecting dust since 3rd grade, ready to swing. He was about to when he was halted by a voice. 

“Hyung…” That familiar voice whimpered and Minho lowered his weapon. 

“Jisung?” Minho probed carefully and treaded towards him with light steps. 

As he got closer, he got a better look at Jisung’s face. He looked fine, but there was something seriously wrong. He was limping for some reason and clutching his stomach. He was in pain. 

“Oh my god,” The baseball bat clanged on the floor, forgotten and he was about to take him into his arms when Jisung collapsed. Had it not been for Minho’s quick reflexes, he would have fallen flat on the floor. 

“What happened? Who did this to you?” Minho’s voice cracked as a million questions swirled in his head unanswered. He was going to destroy whoever did this to his previous Jisung. 

“It’s not important, just,” Jisung cried in pain as Minho’s elbow pressed against a sore area on his rib. Minho cringed inside knowing he caused more pain. “Help me onto the bed.”

Minho complied and led him over. Upon lying down he began to wince even more. Jisung was still clutching his abdominal area and massaging his knee. 

“Take off your shirt.” 

“What?”

“Did i stutter? Take off your shirt.” 

What was hidden by Jisung’s hoodie was a dangerously purple bruise that covered half of his stomach and was creeping up his rib cage in a lethal dance. 

Minho reached out to brush it lightly with the tips of his fingertips, resulting in a flinch from Jisung. Jisung’s eyes was beginning to turn glassy. Either from the pain or the fact that he looked so vulnerable.

Weak.

“Looks bad huh?”

“Y-You need to tell me what happened. Right now.” Minho tried to stay firm in spite of the situation. How could he?

“I-I can’t.” 

His throat was beginning to close up but Minho shoved that feeling to the corner for the time being. 

“You can’t just climb into my window after getting beaten up, and expect me to fix you. Frankly, i don’t know what to do!” Minho whisper-screamed at shirtless Jisung.

A long silence came after.

“Jisung,” Minho switched to Korean, “please.” 

The word felt foreign on his tongue but sincere nonetheless.

“My dad.” 

“What?” 

Minho’s mind had been fogged over by the thoughts and unanswered questions swarming his head and didn’t catch what he said. They loomed in his brain like black smog that was impossible to look through. Or he just didn’t want to believe what exactly Jisung had said. 

“My dad,” Jisung continued after a long tension-filled silence. “He’s been beating me since 4th grade.”

“He only does it when he drinks alcohol though!” He protested and sank down further into the downy bed if it was even possible. 

“I don’t know why he does it. He just got really mad at me when i spilt some water on the carpet and then kicked me right in the stomach.” He was beginning to let the tears stream down his face and sob, but the pain was overbearing, reducing it to soft whimpers. 

After 9 whole years of knowing Han Jisung, never had he cried in front of Minho. Despite the ups and downs they had gone through together, he never once shed a tear. 

This was serious. 

“Doesn’t give him the right to do that …” 

It hurt. 

Stung like the time when Minho went to the beach after school and got stung by a jellyfish, only this one hurt so much worse. It stung to know that Jisung had been hiding behind fake smiles and laughs for the past 4 years. 

Minho didn’t know the pain and suffering he had been hiding from him. He couldn’t even imagine the aches and burns Jisung had to face alone. To be abused and beat by your own parent is something no 14-year-old should have ever had to face.

But throughout the empathy that was running through Minho, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to the fact that he was an unworthy friend. He couldn’t help but think he was a useless friend that Jisung never even mentioned this. Minho thought he could have helped. 

He could have. He could have been there for him. He should have been there for him. 

Was he not trustworthy enough to share? Minho shared everything with Jisung. He thought Jisung had done the same. But apparently not. 

“Where was your mom?”

“She wasn’t at home.” Jisung’s voice was monotone and lacked the lustre and sparkle it usually had. 

Minho had never seen or heard Jisung sound so depressed before. Not even after he had gotten a score of 3 on his English test in the 1st grade. 

“I’m sorry that i wasn’t there for you Hannie, i should have been a better friend for you. You shouldn’t have gone through this alone for so long.”

“No,” Jisung shook his head violently, tears spilling out of his tear ducts. “I made the decision to keep this from you. I wanted to always be the happy and problemless Jisung you always knew. I didn’t want to burden you with this fucked up thing about my life.” 

Jisung never cursed. 

It was as if someone had taken a pin and punctured Minho’s lung, letting the air inside leak out slowly and painfully. He couldn’t breathe. 

“You could never burden me. You’re still the Jisung I’ve known since i was 5, and nothing is ever going to change that. You know that, don’t you?”

Silence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

That was the last straw that unleashed the waterfall of Jisung’s tears. He had been sobbing, yes but this was a whole new level. He had been holding back for so long, staying strong for so long, that the moment there was a small crack, everything just burst at its seams.

His cheeks were pink, his eyes bloodshot and hands ice cold- Jisung had completely unravelled the facade he had been putting up for far too long to reveal his fear. 

“Oh, Hannie-ah.” Minho whispered and took him into a warm embrace. Jisung wasted no time to return the hug with open arms. Wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist, he let Minho see the deepest and more vulnerable part of who he was. 

Not happy and carefree Han Jisung. But the real Han Jisung. Han Jisung all the same. 

Tears began to soak the shirt he was wearing as Jisung heaved against him for almost an hour, just crying, crying and crying.

He felt so small and bony in his arms. So small. 

Carding his fingers into Jisung’s slightly damp hair, Minho began to whisper soft comforts in his ear. His hand came to the middle of Jisung’s back to rub comforting circles.

It’s okay, I'm here. 

Let it all out okay?

Everything is okay.

He wasn’t sure if he was convincing Jisung or himself with that last one. 

That night, Jisung fell asleep in Minho’s arms, tear stains and everything. Minho had taken the time to drape his favourite flannel over him as he slept. He knew Jisung would get cold in the middle of the night. 

But Minho, on the other hand, didn’t sleep a wink last night. He stayed awake with the adrenaline running through the labyrinth of veins that lay underneath his skin just thinking. He soon came to a conclusion after 4 long hours. 

Minho Lee was in love with Han Jisung. 

Minho had come to terms with his own sexuality a while back on a night like that a couple years back at 3 am in the morning. 

He had broken out in cold sweat and shot up from his bed in the dead of the night with only one thought in his head. 

He knew he liked girls but boys? It was unnatural. Different. After much anxiety filled google session, he soon found the term for him.

Bisexual. 

He didn't want to label himself as he did with his ethnicity his whole life, but it still bothered him like an itch he couldn’t make go away no matter how long he scratched at it. 

The word bisexual swarmed around and he didn’t know what to do with it. Being the lazy person he was, he decided to shove it aside and pretend it didn’t exist. It was fairly simple since there wasn’t a special boy in his life. 

Not until Han Jisung rolled around. 

That was the most cliche out of all cliches in the world. 

Fuck. 

Minho loved one Asian boy and had no idea what to do.


	5. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda bad and is a filler thing but nonetheless i hope yall enjoy!!

It wasn’t the last time Han Jisung climbed into Minho’s bedroom in the dead of the night. Minho wished it was. 

It wasn’t. 

Jisung never cried so hard as he did that night. He winced, groand, and made every sound humanly possible to make in pain. He shed a couple tears here and there, but never again did he wreck such a havoc in Minho’s arms again. 

As their teenage years dragged on, Jisung’s father’s alcoholic tendencies increased exponentially. Single cans and bottles of the liquid turned into 6 packs and then 12 packs. And that was only after 2 summers. 

The number of bruises and cuts on Jisung’s body only naturally got larger and more torturous. So did the frequency of the beatings. Fortnightly became weekly which then became once every 3 days. 

Jisung’s mum soon found out, but instead of doing something to help; protect her son, call the cops (literally anything), she buried herself in a mountain of work that would make Everest jealous, working from 9-5 then from 7-12. Minho hadn’t seen her in a year. 

She was the catalyst that worsened Jisung’s constant abuse from the other half of his fucked up parents.

Sleeping over became almost a daily thing, he might as well buy himself his own bed. Jisung already had his own cup in the bathroom along with his toothbrush. Minho’s house was practically his, since he spent a good 6 out of the 7 days in a week there. 

“Hyung!!” 16 year old Jisung’s voice called out from the bottom half of Minho’s house. 

Minho’s heavy head pounded like a sledgehammer. Groaning, he opened his eyes for the first time in hours to pan to his clock on his left. It was 1.36pm. In other words, way too early. 

Jisung’s voice rang throughout the empty house upon Minho’s lack of response, allowing a pang of pain to ricochet throughout his cranium. 

It was at that exact moment where he regretted staying up all night gaming. But knowing him, the same thing would happen the next after.

“Here!” 

Jisung stomped all the way up noisily and flung Minho’s bedroom door open.

“Have you done the math homework?” Jisung walked into Minho’s room and dumped his bag on the floor like deadweight. His camera he had hung so preciously around his neck was placed gently on Minho’s table. 

It cost $200. Minho’s $200. Jisung thought it was a second hand one Minho had gotten for $100 ish. Lying was a second nature to Minho. What Jisung didn’t know won’t kill him.

Minho gestured to the pile of untouched worksheets on his worktable.

“What do you think?” 

The audacity he had to assume Minho Lee did the math homework. Of course he did. Han Jisung the straight A student with perfect grades and the president of the photography club. Lee Minho was just the typical straight C student and the president of nothing. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Many of Minho’s classes were spent drawing, sketching, painting and everything. 

He somehow managed to keep decent (borderline) grades to ward off the teachers and continue doing his art in class as Jisung paid full attention in every single class, jotting down neat notes at the speed of light and never missing anything the teacher said. 

Minho could never compare to Jisung. He was too good for him. 

Rolling his eyes skyward, Jisung flopped onto Minho’s bed and lamented. “Aish, i don’t even know why i asked honestly. You never do it anyway.” he ran his tongue over his silver braces he’s had for a while, almost cutting it in the process. 

Jisung was sweaty from running all the way from school to his house, evident from the sweat stains that drenched his uniform but Minho said nothing. Jisung had cultivated the habit since middle school, and it was too late to get a new best friend anyway. 

“I wasn’t even in school today.” Minho deadpanned and proceeded to take a lie a couple inches away from Jisung. 

“I don’t know why i tolerate you.” Jisung sighed heavily while pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You love me.” Minho teased and twirled on the loose strands of Jisung freshly dyed blond hair. He remembered the day he laughed for hours on end just looking at Jisung’s scalp when he had first dyed it weeks ago. 

“You’re gonna be bald by 20 i tell you.”

Minho just didn’t have the guts to tell him how good he looked with blond hair. 

“Yea, yea whatever,” Jisung’s tone was light and airy despite his words and he threw a pillow in Minho’s direction playfully. 

It had hit Minho square in the face.

Minho liked being Asian; for Jisung.


	6. Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!!!!!! i hope 2019 is good for all of you:) heres the first update of the year!!11 its kinda short but meh aHA enjoy

Not even a month later, Jisung came out of the closet. They were just in Minho’s room like always. Jisung was sitting at the study desk doing his homework, while Minho was sprawled on the floor reading Jisung’s comic books when Jisung had an outburst. 

“Hyung-ah.”

Minho hummed uncommitedly and noisily flipped the comic to the next page, engrossed in what was about to happen next. The hero was about to defeat the villian once and for all, after almost 50 pages...

I don’t like girls.”

Wait. Pause. 

Sitting up from the floor, Minho leaned forward and closed the book slowly. He thought he had misheard what Jisung had said. 

“Sorry what?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and sighing again, Jisung repeated himself after a deep breath in. In a pained way. 

“I’m gay.”

Minho never saw it coming. Honestly, he should have. Jisung had never went out with any of the girls in school even though he had at least ten pining for him. Jisung did get ten roses on valentines day last year. 

Minho had only gotten one, from Jisung that was. 

In 7th grade, Jisung did go out with a girl. She was nice, pretty and sweet to Jisung. But after the date, Minho waited patiently for Jisung to come back and gush about how great it was, whether they kissed, held hands, anything.

Oh how he loved to torture himself. 

But all Jisung ended up saying was, she was great, but i don’t like her.

And Minho accepted his reason there and then. He just didn’t like her that way. Minho should have known he just didn’t like girls that way. 

“Oh…” Was all Minho could utter out at the moment.

He wanted to spill it all to Jisung. That he’s had a massive crush on him for the past 2 years after being friends with him for 11 years. But what was the point? It’ll only confuse the boy more. And what if Jisung didn’t like him that way? Their friendship would forever be ruined. Okay, not ruined but it’ll be weird. 

Minho could barely fathom the slight thought of Jisung even reciprocating his feelings, much less date him. 

Maybe he should come out too, to make him feel a little less awkward or something. Minho had no experience in situations like this. 

“Are you not okay with it? I don’t like you that way… I just… Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. It was really stupid of me. Can you just pretend that i didn’t say anything? Haha! What a big joke! Gay right?” Jisung had gotten up from the bed and let out a loud laugh Minho knew had to be fake. 

“Hannie-ah” 

Jisung stopped talking and looked at Minho with his doe eyes. 

“I-I’m okay with it. I’m glad you decided to tell me okay. You’re still the same Han Jisung I’ve known since i was 5 who loved Spiderman. You’re still the same Jisung who still hugs a bear to sleep and can’t fall asleep without wearing his special fluffy socks i got you for Christmas in 5th grade. And you’re still the same Jisung I love. Nothing can change that, okay?” 

Jisung broke out into a big grin. 

“You’re really cheesy you know?” His lisp never went away and became more prominent after getting braces. 

A pillow was thrown in Jisung’s direction.

“Hey!” Jisung protested voice muffled from the pillow, “That hurt!”

“I’m tryna be sentimental and you pull this kind of shit.” Minho deadpanned.

“I’m kidding! Thank for accepting me Hyung, I love you.”

A wave of despair washed over Minho from Jisung’s unknowingly platonic love. There was nothing more behind those 3 words. Purely platonic. Nothing else.

“I love you too Jisung,” Minho plastered a fake smile on his face. “Let’s start on homework yea?”

Minho was in love with an Asian boy who would never love him back.


	7. 13 Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long!!! i had a major writer's block ajbdfs enjoy!!

“We’re graduating soon.” 

They were in their senior year of high school; time passed by in a blink of an eye and still as close, dumb and immature as ever. Summer was approaching quick. 

Jisung grew to a height of 172 centimetres and Minho towered over him by a good 10 centimetres. He had gotten his braces removed a while back, leaving him with perfectly straight teeth. Jisung’s baby cheeks disappeared over time and was left with a sharp jawline. 

Minho contemplated on getting braces as well, but there was no point in straightening his teeth when he couldn’t do the same for his sexuality. And also because Jisung said his slightly crooked teeth were cute. Sue him. 

“Water is wet.” 

Minho shot a fed up look towards Jisung. Jisung on the other hand was left unaffected by Minho’s lack of reaction towards his sarcasm. 

Letting out a soft sigh Jisung lamented, “I know, I’m probably gonna be headed back to Korea for university. Seoul university had one of the best photography courses you know? Can’t let that scholarship go to waste you know.” 

Also known as, I want to escape my abusive dad by going off to another country thousands of miles away and live with my relatives. 

The idea sounded wonderful in Minho’s head, Jisung would be studying the course he loved the most surrounded by people who spoke his native tongue. He’d be thousands of miles away. But happier. 

And that’s all Minho wanted for him. 

“Yea, i know Hannie, it’s literally all you’ve talked about since like, I don’t know the beginning of time.”

They had all the time in the world. 13 years. 676 weeks. 240,656 days. 14,439,360 hours. 866,361,600 minutes. And god knows how many seconds.

But all Minho could feel was that he hadn’t spent his time with Jisung wisely. There were so many things they haven’t done together. One being Minho confessing his undying feelings for Jisung and them ending up together with 6 dogs. 

And everything in between. There were many things in between. 

They had been friends for so long. They knew each other like the back of their hands. Jisung’s favourite food was pasta and his favourite colour was cobalt blue. He liked to eat cheesecake but hated eating cheese. He always double knotted his shoelaces. He drank his coffee with 2 sugars and a splash of milk. 

Everything. 

Was that all they could have been? Was there nothing else more? Minho had classified their relationship as purely friends a long time ago. It was a lot easier on his emotions that way. 

Minho noticed the way Jisung’s eyes lit up just a little brighter when he was with him as compared to his other friends. The way his gaze lingered on Minho for a split second longer, as if Minho never noticed. 

It was the little things that made Minho really contemplate whether hs previous classification was the right one. Did Jisung have feelings for him too? Or was he just overthinking everything and giving himself false hope?

Minho didn’t know.

“Where are you gonna go?” Jisung played with the ends of his (Minho’s) flannel. Minho thought he outgrew sweater paws a long time ago. Apparently not. 

“Probably some community college i guess.” Minho shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. 

I wish I could follow you to Korea. 

“Wish you could come with me,” Jisung let out a soft sympathetic smile. 

“You know i can’t come with you. I don’t speak Korean.”

“Yea, i know. You only know how to count from one to ten and the curse words.” 

Minho made Jisung teach him.

“Fuck your mother.” Minho said fluently in korean, as if it were the most beautiful phrase in the world.

Shaking his head in fake annoyance, the corners of Jisungs mouth upturned at Minho’s vulgar tone. 

“I’m gonna miss you. So much.” Minho blurted out loud, taking in a deep cold breath. 

Minho wanted nothing more than to pull Jisung on his lap and kiss the hell out of him. He never wanted to let go. 

“Hey,” Jisung placed a hand on Minho’s jean clad thigh, igniting a flurry of sparks under his skin. “I’m not dead you know. We’ll still talk. We can skype, text, facetime email, everything. You can’t get rid of me that easy Lee.”

“Only in my dreams.”

Jisung left 3 weeks into summer to start settling into his dorm. He wore the flannel he had stolen from Minho to the airport and kept it; Minho insisted. 

Minho of course, was there to send him off, even though he had to wake up at 2am to do so. It was the last time he was going to see his best friend, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

“Goodbye Hannie,” A tear-stricken smile rose to Minho’s tired face.

“Don’t say goodbye, it means that i won’t ever see you again. We’ll see each other again hyung. See you soon.” Jisung hugged Minho for the last time before turning his back and walking away faster than Minho would have liked.

“See you soon, Han Jisung.”

13 years passed by so fast and Minho didn’t have the chance to tell him he loved him.

Minho started to hate being Asian again.


	8. Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took such a long time! enjoy!!

They talked. Of course, they did. Sporadic updates after he landed when he checked in and his roommates, everything. Settling was okay and classes hadn’t started yet. So of course, Jisung was free. 

Wrong. He was never free. 

He had signed himself for a thousand and one courses, clubs and sports. Everytime Minho wanted to talk he either had meetings, games, practices, and everything in between.

Minho tried to be understanding, he really did. He told himself that Jisung was finally in Korea after 13 years, of course he missed his hometown. And university was the place to let loose and truly discover who you are. Jisung didn’t have the pressure of being the top student, photography president and an abusive household holding him back anymore. 

Minho wasn’t holding him back anymore. 

It didn’t make things any better that Minho was having the worst time in college. His roommate was messy, smoked weed in their room all the time and worst of all, always forgot his key. The course he had signed up for was typical and boring, he had learnt it so many times that the entire syllabus was burned at the back of his head. 

A total waste of his time. 

It would have been way better if Jisung were with him. Lee Minho and Han Jisung against the world. There was no better duo. 

Their talks soon became daily, to weekly, fortnightly, once a month, once in three months and then once in six months. Minho started the conversation more than Jisung, but it always died down within the next day. Many excuses were fed to Minho that he was busy, sleeping, eating, anything.

They stopped talking after the start of Minho’s second year of university. 

At first, Minho denied it all. He kept coming up with excuses for Jisung. That he had a lot to deal with and was very stressed and trying to excel in every possible way. That was why he only replied his texts after 12 hours and could never skype anymore. 

He had a lot on his plate and was having the time of his life. He didn’t have time to be held back by the best friend who was secretly in love with him. He had so much better things to do with his time. Right?

Then, the anger sank in. How could Jisung forget him so easily? He had been thrown to the side the moment he got back to Korea and forgotten? Did 13 years mean nothing to him? How the hell could Jisung take his care and friendship (love) for granted? Minho poured his entire soul into maintaining the friendship and Jisung paid him dust. 

13 years had gone down the drain in a span of a year. 

Minho had almost forgotten how he looked like. Jokes, Minho could never forget. 

Minho soon got numb to the feeling. He shouldn’t have gotten used to it, but he did. He knew he had lost Jisung the moment he stepped on that plane, but he didnt think that they’d stop talking completely. 

He didn’t blame Jisung. Anymore. He blamed Korea for taking his Jisung away from him. 

Minho hated being Asian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that, my little au has come to an end. thank you to every single one of you for even clicking on this and taking the time to read my work :) yall make me very happy hehe. I'll be making edits as i improve as a writer so feel free to re-read it in time to come! I'll be posting more aus in the future, but please be patient! this year is very important to me academically so i won't be spending as much time to write as i did previously :( 
> 
> do follow me on twitter @corginamjoon for updates for my new aus and read my crackhead tweets i guess HAHA 
> 
> goodbye! see yall soon :))


End file.
